


Chipped

by VanillaMostly



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Gen, POV Minor Character, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-09 01:09:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1963284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanillaMostly/pseuds/VanillaMostly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>November 1979. Lily revisits a place from her childhood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chipped

Lily’s nails were chipped. Chipped and ugly, from biting, a horrid habit from when she was young. She could still hear her mother’s voice in her head, chiding.

Only her mother was gone now. She wouldn’t chide Lily about her nails ever again.

Mum had asked for Lily on her deathbed, according to Petunia. “You are so selfish, you know that?” Petunia had spat in Lily’s face, pointing her bony finger with the long painted nail (Petunia had beautiful nails, unlike Lily). “Do you know how many times Mummy asked for you? Do you?”

Lily had tried to explain, about the war, how the Order had needed her, how no, she didn’t _know_ … But what did it matter? Tuney would always hate her.

And Mum would always be gone, Lily always the daughter who wasn’t there for her mother's last moments.

At the funeral, Petunia refused to look at Lily even once. She stuck close to her newlywed husband, a large, stuffy man whom Lily had not met until today. What was his name again? Did it start with a B? Or a D? He hated Lily, too, that was obvious. No doubt Petunia had described Lily to him plenty. There was a time when Lily might have told her sister that she deserved better than a man like that, and Tuney might even have listened, but that time was long past.

Lily was glad James had not accompanied her, like he had insisted that morning. He had strong opinions about Petunia and where she ought to stick it. Besides, Lily wanted to be alone.

She didn’t Apparate back to Headquarters immediately after the service, even though that was what she was supposed to do. Instead, she took her time to walk along the river from the cemetery. It was a school day; she saw schoolgirls and boys in their uniforms, talking and laughing. She saw dog-walkers and joggers. Some of them made eye contact and smiled, but most did not notice her. To them she was just a girl wandering around, a lonely stranger.

Not paying attention to where she was going, she somehow found herself back in her old neighborhood.

After Dad’s passing from a heart attack, Mum moved out. Tuney, by then, had already left to intern in London. Mum got herself a nice, quaint little apartment across town, with a pull-out bed for Lily when Lily visited during breaks. Lily remembered the rosebud wallpaper and Mum’s potted plants on the windowsill. But to Lily, home would always be the two-storied Tudor house of her childhood.

She walked, letting herself remember. This was where she learned to ride her bike for the first time. This was where she scraped her knee, chasing after Tuney and the big kids. This was where Dad bought Lily an orange popsicle from the ice cream truck. This was where Mum reminded Lily not to bite her nails on the way to church, and not to mess with the ribbon on her dress.

Lily wiped her eyes with the end of her scarf, and walked further.

The house looked a little different, now; the siding had been painted beige over the previous white. There was a basketball hoop on the driveway. The new family had added a picket fence around the backyard.

Lily stood there until she saw the curtains shifting in the living room. She turned and kept walking.

The playground came into view.

She paused, finding it suddenly difficult to swallow. The playground hadn’t changed, not at all, except it looked older. Were the swings always so rusty? The slides so full of dirt and leaves? The sandbox so small?

Maybe yes. Things always looked better in a nine-year-old's eyes.

Unbiddingly, her gaze drifted to the riverbend, where the water here turned yellow and muddy. Across the river she could make out the tall chimney of an abandoned mill. As a child, she always thought the sky over there looked gloomier than the sky elsewhere. She still felt the same way.

Spinner’s End was not a far walk.

_Would he still be there?_

_Would he want to see me?_

Lily reached into her coat pocket, hand brushing her wand. Reassured, she renewed her pace.

A year… a year and a half since Lily had last seen him. Almost four years since they had last talked to each other. Even longer than that since they’d _really_ talked to each other, the way they had before, swinging on the swings in the playground, or sitting on the river bank side by side.

At least, Lily assumed that she hadn’t seen him since Hogwarts. _Those_ from his side wore hooded cloaks and masks that covered their faces. Cowards, Sirius called them. Lily would raise her wand and wonder every time if Severus was behind that mask.

Snape. He wasn’t Severus anymore. He was Snape.

It took her a while, but she thought she recognized his among the rows of identical houses. There was a pothole right in front of the house that she couldn't miss. Weeds had overtaken the sidewalk; mailbox lid hung unhinged. Mildew stained the bricked walls in places. It hadn’t looked like much back then, either.

Se- Snape had grown up here. That thought still made her sad, even now. (He had not shown Lily his home; his pride was too much for that. Lily had followed him one day and when he found out he wouldn't speak to her for a week.)

She stared at the windows. Each one had its blinds closed.  

“No one there, girlie.”

Lily’s hand went to her pocket instinctively, but looking behind her she saw it was a woman sitting on the front steps across the street, puffing away on a cigarette, in a baggy sweatshirt and faded jeans. She could be thirty or fifty. It was hard to tell, with her half-bleached hair and mottled skin.

“Do you live here, ma’am?” Lily asked, taking a step towards her.

The woman flicked her beady eyes over Lily with a sneer. “What’s it to you?”

“I’m looking for someone. Maybe you can help me,” Lily said. She hoped the woman would not ask for money; none of the coins Lily carried could be of any use to her. “He used to live in this house. Do you know of—”

“Tobias Snape? Him?” The woman barked a sharp laugh. “Girlie, that sonofabitch died ages ago.”

“And… his family?”

The woman took a deep drag and blew out, eyes closed. “What family?”

“His son and wife.”

“Tobias didn’t have no son or wife,” said the woman, her eyes snapping open. She smiled nastily. “Maybe a bastard here and there, sure, but who'd come lookin’ for _him_?”

Lily stared. “But he did have a son. Severus? A boy, my age. Pale, thin, dark eyes...”

The woman's smile dropped in a flash. “Shit, I said I never seen no relations of Tobias Snape, a-ight, and that includes any pale-arsed boy. If you don’t believe me, you can bloody fuck off, princess.”

With a glare at Lily, the woman got off her front steps, crushed her cig beneath her shoe, and slammed the door, the screen banging shut.

Lily frowned, but she let the woman go. Lily knew most lying faces when she saw them. That woman had spoken the truth. Or a truth someone had put in her head.

Lily looked up at the house before her again. So his father had died a while ago… she didn’t know. Was it during their third year? Fifth year? Before or after Lily’s own father died?

(He never told her. Did he tell his new friends? The ones who liked the Dark Arts so much? The ones he had more in common with? Who _understood_ him better, perhaps?)

But what did it matter, anyway? It was like with Tuney. Like with Mother. Did Lily really think that by coming here, she could make things go back to the way they were? That magically, with a wave of her wand, she could fix everything like she could fix a cracked teacup?

No, it was too late for that. Lily had made her choices. Petunia would always hate Lily, and Severus… Lily supposed Severus would always hate her. She had walked away from him that day, even after seeing the pain in his face, plain and naked. She had turned a cold shoulder to him afterwards, ignoring him the few times he’d attempted to talk to her. He’d stopped later, but those earlier times he had pleaded for her attention, _begged_.

And then there was the day Lily sighed and said, “Alright Potter, I’ll go out with you,” and James had whooped loud enough for the whole castle to hear, and Lily, raising her head, had somehow met Severus’s eyes across the Great Hall.

The betrayal, the anger and _hate_ there was like a clean slash of a knife.

Lily had turned away instantly nonetheless.

Right. Severus would never stop hating Lily. He would never forgive her. Lily wasn’t even sure if he should be the one doing the forgiving. She still didn’t think what she did was wrong. She’d made her choice but Severus had made his as well. He’d chosen to be with _them_. Why couldn’t he see them for what they were? That what they believed and planned was so — _sick_? That not all Muggles were like his father? That Muggles and Muggle-borns were ordinary people, with the same flaws and dreams and good and bad as all witches and wizards? That Lily herself was also ordinary, and that by hating the rest of them, he had no right to treat her any different?

If he was her best friend, why didn't he understand?

_Yes, I hurt you,_ thought Lily. _But you hurt me too._

On that thought she removed her nail from her mouth. She looked one last time at the house, head held high, making her message clear to the person who may or may not be watching from inside. She wasn’t here to apologize or grovel or retract her words. She wasn’t here to declare war, either. She was here to… to remember. To move on.

She turned on her heel, walking away. The next time she saw Severus, he would be Snape, and she wouldn’t hesitate to point her wand again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Idk, just wanted to explore Lily's POV a bit. I think in canon she comes off as a little "too perfect" and this Virgin Mary-esque figure and I don't find that realistic. Also her fallout with Snape? C'mon, I don't buy it that she never thought about him again, never wavered.


End file.
